


i've shared my life with you, brother

by sky_blue_hightops



Series: Sun and Moon AU [5]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Attacks, Brother Feels, Families of Choice, Finally, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Quirin (Disney), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Moon Powers Varian (Disney), Team Awesome (Disney: Tangled), i went nuts on the relationship tags but no one can stop me and i have all the power sorry, just lil bit, literal baby varian, obligatory team awesome hand holding, the piece de resistance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: The day Varian is born, it's absolutechaos.***Four times the boys found each other.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Quirin, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Quirin & Ulla (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms) & Varian, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Quirin & Varian, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Ulla (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian, Quirin & Varian (Disney), Ulla & Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Series: Sun and Moon AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823434
Comments: 11
Kudos: 132





	i've shared my life with you, brother

**Author's Note:**

> we interrupted your regularly scheduled angst for some good ole Baby Time TM

The day Varian is born, it's absolute _chaos_.

Eugene's seen the way tension has been building for weeks. He sees the worry written on Quirin's face when Eugene tugs on his sleeve, sees the despair hidden well in his father's stone-cold gaze, sees the way Ulla has grown slowly paler over time. He knows she's sick, but whenever he'd tried to ask, he'd gotten a pat on his shoulder and empty reassurances. He's not stupid. He's already ten! But the adults refuse to talk about it in front of him, and he's left to worry and do his best to not make a racket outside Quirin and Ulla's door.

He's always so careful, when he steps quietly into their room for a quick hug or to bring flowers that grow between the cracks in the courtyard. And even with tired eyes, she tells the best stories and kisses his forehead and reminds him of what it means to be gentle. She can't leave the bed, not anymore, and her hands tremble when he holds them. Her weakness terrifies him. She'd always been strong, ever since he can remember, picking him up when he falls and teaching him about the world and carrying him to the balcony to see the stars.

He sits by her bed, books and cups of water and bugs he's found in tow, and tries to bring the starlight to her.

Her voice is quiet when she explains why she's so sick. She says she's going to have a baby, little ( _just as small as you, when I met you,_ she tells him with a smile) and new. It's just a lot, and it makes her tired, but she'll get better. It will take time. And that's okay; Eugene can sit next to her for as long as it takes. He knows he can! He puts on his best adventure voice when he reads to her, because over the past few days she's lost the strength for hers. He picks the brightest marigolds, because over the past week her eyes have dimmed. He pulls the blankets up to her shoulders, pulls on a wide smile, pulls the curtains closed when she squints.

Quirin never makes him leave the room, except for when the doctor stops by or he has lessons (ugh). Sometimes they sit together with her, discussing what's happening in the kingdom ( _a prince can never be too young to learn the ruling affairs,_ the advisors say, and in the same breath they turn to him and tell him to _be seen and not heard_ \- Quirin listens. Quirin explains what he doesn't understand). Other times, Quirin falls asleep too (busy helping run the kingdom, busy looking like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders) and Eugene curls up on the armchair nearby and watches. Sunlight streams warm through the window, comforting and beckoning, but he'll have time to go back to running and playing once Ulla feels better.

He doesn't really know a whole lot about babies. She'll teach him, though. Maybe this one won't cry _too_ much.

And then the baby is born, and the brewing storm of tension breaks over the castle. He's sleeping when it happens, and only realizes what Quirin's done from fragments of passing conversations. _The stone_ , they mutter, stuffy robes dragging on the floor, hands fluttering with an odd twist of excitement and fear, _he used the stone_.

Eugene's never seen it before. He's definitely never heard about it from Father, who rarely speaks anything of substance to him anyways. But the attendants that walk the halls love gossip, so he knows vaguely of its existence - it's powerful, and very secretive. And now Quirin's used it, and now when he sneaks up to Quirin and Ulla's door, a baby's cries ring out on the other side.

"Ulla?" His voice is soft when he cracks open the door to their chambers. He's allowed to come and go from these rooms whenever the door isn't locked (which is more than his fathers' chambers - he needs _permission_ to enter there), but he doesn't want to interrupt anything or be a nuisance. He's gonna get better at that, he hopes.

She looks...a whole lot better, actually. Pink spreads across her cheeks, which stretch with a tired smile. A bundle of blankets, dark blue and patterned with shiny stars, squirms in her arms and keeps crying. She motions for him to be quiet and come closer and he obeys. Curiosity moves his feet, awe widens his eyes. "Say hello," she whispers.

He pushes on the bed to see better, leaning over her shoulder, and sleepy blue eyes blink up at him. "Hi," he breathes. "I'm Eugene!"

Ulla's gaze flicks back to him, sparkling with amusement. "Eugene, huh? Finally got tired of Horace?" She knows how weird he thinks his name is, and her joking gives him confidence. He nods enthusiastically. He doesn't want the baby to get confused, later, so might as well start off with the right name. "Do you want to hold him?"

Nervousness curls in his stomach - what if he drops it? What if it cries louder? What if- but then he looks back up to Ulla, and she leans over to kiss the top of his head before adjusting his arms into a hold. "Just like that," she guides, and then there's a soft weight in his arms. The baby stops fussing almost instantly, blinking heavily, hands latching onto his shirt. "His name is Varian," she says.

 _Varian_. His throat tightens. Before, he hadn't cared much about anything besides Ulla getting better; he hadn't thought about the baby. Now those eyes are the only thing he sees, and he's absolutely certain he'd do anything for this little thing that looks up at him like he's the world. "He's really cute," Eugene admits, and her grin is the only answer he needs.

He spends the night with them, listening to Ulla tell the stories she hasn't had the energy for in weeks, holding Varian close and marveling over the tiny fingers, _Ulla, look at his feet!_ and when Quirin returns, he tucks into the man's side and shows him Varian with pride and can't see anything besides soft blue hair and how he can coax out little baby grins. He misses the fear lining Quirin's face, how he doesn't take off his shoes. He misses the look that passes over his head between the two adults.

And then tomorrow, the three of them are gone, and Eugene is more alone in the castle he calls home that he ever has been.

* * *

It's three years before Quirin returns, a toddler in his arms. Eugene is there when he kneels, deposits the boy on the ground, and it's only his father's intent gaze that keeps him from running to Quirin. Nothing can keep him from meeting Varian's curious, nervous eyes and smiling. It's been _three years_ and Eugene had missed them so much -

But Ulla doesn't follow. It's just Quirin, eyes tired, with Varian doing his best to hide in his dad's shadow. It's only them two, and the words that pass between his father and Quirin shift in and out of his focus. Where...where is she? Did she choose to stay away? Did she leave them?

The pain in his voice when he says _mistake_ tells Eugene everything he needs to know. He can't breathe, for a terrifying second. She did leave. But she didn't choose to, and the hurt at that thought is blinding. He shifts at his father's side and itches to be anywhere else but here, standing over them.

The relief when Father asks him to take Varian is almost overwhelming. But now questions swirl in his mind about _the_ _Brotherhood_ and _the Opal,_ and he steps forward with a frown. This could be his only chance to learn more, to know exactly _why_ they'd had to leave and why they'd come back. "Father, I-"

"Do as you're told," his father snaps back. He wishes he wasn't used to it. He knows better than to protest. Eugene breathes out slowly (not a sigh, not unless he wants another lecture about court behavior) and focuses back on Varian. The young boy flinches and reaches for Quirin when Eugene kneels in front of him, and his chest tightens. Why is he scared? It's just Eugene!

But Varian still looks wary when he protests and then Quirin nudges him forwards. His eyes still water when Quirin hugs him and lets him go, and he still only reaches slowly when Eugene offers a hand. He remembers once when this hand had been much smaller, had fit around his finger, and realizes maybe Varian's just forgotten him. He _was_ really tiny the last time Eugene had seen him. And so when he talks to Varian, he keeps his voice light. He wears a smile, and holds the hand in his.

This time, he won't let go. He doesn't want them to leave, again.

* * *

Years later, Eugene decides lessons are dumb. Full of boring facts and useless, overwhelming expectations - the _audacity_ of them to believe he can stay awake whenever his latest tutor prattles on, honestly.

As amusing as the daydream of his math instructor tripping mid-lecture is, he can't get his mind off his future. He knows who he is, who they're pushing him to become, and the thought makes his skin crawl. What self-respecting fifteen-year-old would willingly accept the idea of ruling over some stuffy old kingdom in some dark, empty corner of the world? It's like his father doesn't know him at _all_.

And that's the heart of the matter, isn't it? Father has never listened to him before. Eugene wishes he could convince himself that things will get better once he's king - people will pay attention to what he says, account for his opinions - but he's sat in on enough advising meetings to know that isn't the case. Not by a mile.

No, if he wants freedom and respect, he'll have to fight for it himself. Out in the big, wide world, where he can make a name that's just _him_ , without any royal ties. He wants adventures like in the books he reads. The Flynn Rider books have been his whole life - every drop of excitement in his mundane routine comes from between those pages, whether he's huddled under blankets with the third book and (dangerously) a candle, whether he's got Varian under one arm and the seventh balanced on his knees, whether he's reciting the seventeenth chapter of the tenth to himself when he should be copying homework phrases in the ancient dialect. Those books are what he'll model his new life after, he's decided. Flynn Rider will be more of a man than the Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom could ever hope to be.

These are the plans that will save them, later. He just doesn't know it yet.

But in the meantime, he drags himself to his classes and falls asleep to literary analysis and almost completely brains himself against the desk trying to solve math problems, and refuses to think about his expected future. It works. 

And then it doesn't.

"For years, you haven't taken any of your training seriously, son." His father stands tall over him, and while Eugene knows he is safe, it's hard to resist the urge to shrink down. His whole body tenses, and he wants to snap. "You know I care for you, and our kingdom. This is how you will achieve your full potential, Eugene. There are aspects of your heritage that you haven't learned yet, and I expect you to be ready for when that time comes."

Sure. More ancient runes, ancient texts, ancient rules. Sounds wonderful, dad. 

But then his father's face shifts, as if he knows what Eugene's guessed and knows it's wrong. "Becoming king is far more than your lessons have led you to believe. I do not wish to tell you before you're old enough, but..." Father frowns, inhaling deep. "There is...a source of great power, and it is your birthright. Think of the control you are learning now as preparation for the responsibility you will one day have."

This is probably the most interesting thing Father has told him directly. Frustration rises in his throat, and his voice is too loud to be speaking to his authority figure, but he doesn't care - he just wants _answers_. "Why won't you ever tell me anything, dad? Why is it always riddles? Do you want me to know what I have to do or not?"

Displeasure crosses his father's face, bitter and familiar. "I will tell you what you are ready for, when you are ready for it, and nothing more. You know this, Eugene." 

"Yeah, I _sure_ do! All I've ever heard is _not now, Eugene_ , you're not _ready_ or _prepared_ or _trained_. Have you ever considered that I don't want to be? I'm sick of living with this hanging over my head, Dad! You don't even understand-"

" _Quiet, Horace!_ " Father's eyes narrow, flashing, and Eugene submits to the urge to cower. A sick cold creeps up his spine. He's gone too far _he's gone too far_ -

The silence is dangerous as it stretches on. Eugene scrambles for words in his head, but can't find the right ones. Can't find the right voice to speak them in, or the right moment that'll save him from more lecturing and disappointment. Father's eyes are unflinching as the tension grows, before he abruptly softens his gaze. Eugene is left to flounder. "Eugene," he begins, weary, and stops himself. "Son. You're not ready. You won't ever be, if you continue this way. Put more effort into your studies, or there will be _consequences_ , do you hear me?"

The emphasis on that word suffocates him, but he nods and shuffles backwards. "Yes, sir," he replies. The exchange is over. Father leaves the room, and Eugene only stares after him.

Lectures always leave him rattled, but the unusually short nature of this one makes him believe there's more, and it puts Eugene on edge. Of course there's more; no matter how bad his father is at keeping secrets, he's never backed down on the mysteries around their family or legacy. He just - he needs a second, maybe, to calm down. His breath is quick in his ears. His father's voice using his given name rings in his ears, and he clamps his hands over them, but it _persists_.

There's a hand on his arm, small and cold. Eugene hums, panic brewing, and the hand tugs harder at his forearm. "'Gene?"

"Hi, bud," he whispers, and sits where he stands. Rattled. They always leave him rattled. Knees push at his as Varian kneels before him, holding Eugene's wrists in his hands that can't even close all the way around them.

"Are you okay?" The question is light, soft, and the sound of his friend's voice is sweet enough to replace the echo of Father's. Eugene lets go of his ears and shifts to grip Varian's hands in his own. "Do you wanna go outside?"

His throat sticks before he can get the words out. "No, no, I'm okay. How'd you..."

Varian scoots over on the ground to pick up Eugene's arm and pull it around him. The older boy complies, breathing deeper. "I heard loud voices," he explains. "He sounded mad. You sounded upset."

"And...you came for me?"

Varian's open-mouthed smile is nothing but pure, squeaky voice high with excitement, and he spreads his arms wide. Not often is the young boy this expressive, and it's contagious. "Yeah, duh! You're my best friend!"

Eugene blinks. _Best friend?_

It's only natural he scoops up Varian into a tight hug, grinning himself. Yeah, he likes the sound of that.

* * *

When Eugene finds him, Varian's perched on his window ledge, feet swinging freely over the steep drop. He shuffles over so Eugene can hop up beside him, fingers hooked around the cold stone, and their shoulders press together. Neither speaks, for a moment - Eugene doesn't ask, Varian doesn't explain. It's what makes the silence between them so easy, sometimes. There's no pressure to put things into words and boxes and emotions.

He can picture the angry attendants, clothes stained with the results of his latest explosion and faces twisted with disdain. He honestly didn't _mean_ to set off another experiment, and definitely not with the king's assistants in the blast range, but he'd put in just one too many drops and his fate had been sealed. That's what castle life was like, Varian has come to learn. No room for error.

He's mostly likely earned himself another few weeks of snide, cruel comments and cold shoulders and _definitely_ earned himself a Look of Disapproval from his dad, but he is an _expert_ at letting all of those not get to him (read: each and every one of those digs in and hurts) so everything is fine. He just needs to lie low for a few days, perform some less-volatile experiments, and get back to the good stuff once he can enter the kitchens (without being chased out by a broom) or he can poke around the offices (without getting dragged back to the door). Easy!

But it sure stings, having to shelve his better ideas and dumb down his creativity in the name of not making waves. He doesn't fit in this castle, in this kingdom, and his frequent disturbances only evidence that fact. Even _Dad_ doesn't understand him or how isolated he feels, and that just makes it all worse. "I think everyone in this castle hates me," he mutters with a scowl, and ignores the way Eugene tries not to laugh.

“Hey, what about me? I don’t. Do I not count?” He asks playfully. It coaxes a smile from Varian, despite his grumpiness.

He shoves at Eugene's shoulder, and the older boy doesn't waver at all. "No, you don't count." And he's still upset, so he huffs and flops more against Eugene. “And besides, why not? All I do is ruin stuff.” Clumsy accidents, messy explosions, interrupted meetings, awkward words. He just can't get it right, no matter how hard he tries.

"That’s a dumb question and you know it, kid. You're like my little brother," Eugene says, serious, but eyes soft at the same time. "I like spending time with you, Blue."

Varian stares up at him. It's almost too much to let the hope rise in his chest at those words, and he wraps his arms around himself and resists the urge to lean in further. They've always been close, but to say it outright like that makes him want to just curl up next to Eugene and never leave, ever, because nothing else in this entire castle will be better than what he has right now. "...Brothers?" He ventures quietly, and then the hesitance bleeds away and it's _only_ hope, only trust and caring. "Us?"

Eugene laughs and ruffles his hair roughly, only letting up when Varian dodges under his arms to squeeze his own around Eugene's chest. "Yes, us," he answers. "Why wouldn't we be?"

And it's so simple, when he puts it like that. Varian hides in his shoulder, lets himself be held and forgets about all the turmoil of earlier, and mumbles a quick _I love you_ into the fabric of... the fabric of his brother's shirt with a smile.

"Love you too, kid," His older brother replies, and they sit together until the dawn breaks before them.


End file.
